Madrigal
by Loki Milano
Summary: A long time coming, but Zara, Jamie, and the whole gang are back.
1. Prologue

Madrigal

_Prologue_

_Fire. There was fire everywhere. It was burning everything, the heat was unbearable. Illegible sounds that resembled voices called to each other. Dark shapes, human? The sounds are coming from them. They're blurred, dark silhouettes. One is higher pitched than the other, but it all sounds like everything is underwater._

She wakes up, and is staring into the dark. He hair is spread around her like a halo on her pillow. She sits up and sighs, rubbing her eyes and temples. She turns to her left to take note of the time lit up on the alarm clock. It's six am. With a sigh, she flops back down into bed, and closes her eyes again.

A few hours later on the same day, upbeat music was swirling softly through the little cottage. It was warm, bright and sunny. A well-muscled man was in the kitchen, laying various snacks out in bowls and beaming as he did so. There were a few balloons blown up, others waiting to be, and party poppers here and there. He half wondered if the décor was a little childish, but it was his favourite day of the year.

There was a knock at the front door, which swung open with a creak a moment later. Anders smiled, turning round and heading towards the hallway. Standing there were his best friends and neighbours, Amy and Rory, with their son Jamie. Rory was struggling with a rather largely and prettily wrapped gift, and Amy gave him a wave.

"We thought we could help blow up balloons," explained Rory, peering over the square parcel.

"Auntie Amy! Thank god, help! I don't know what to wear!" squealed a young teenaged girl.

All four of them turned around and saw Zara standing at the top of the stairs, still in her white t-shirt and orange shorts that constituted her pyjamas. He wildly wavy hair was hardly brushed. "Oh, hi Uncle Rory, Jamie," she added off hand. She promptly ran downstairs and grabbed Amy's hand, dragging her behind her,

"Um, catch you in a bit?" managed Amy as she was whisked away.

The three remaining males stared after them, none more mystified than Jamie, "I do not understand girls."

"Don't worry," reassured Rory. "You never will."

"Especially alien ones," pointed out Anders.

They collectively shook their heads and wandered back towards the kitchen, Rory kicking the door closed behind him.


	2. Part One

Amy could scarcely believe the girl whose nails she was painting violet was the same one she'd met fourteen years ago, when she weighed less than a stone and could barely hold her own head up. She often lost track of time, only to be reminded of it when she saw the son that was now closing in on her height, though still stick thin, and his best friend who wasn't far behind. Zara had always been more like a daughter to her than anything, and in a way she felt as sentimental about her as she did about Jamie.

"You're doing it again," Amy snapped out of her reverie and looked up, to be greeted by a smile from Zara,  
"Doing what?"  
"Looking at me like I'm an alien,"  
Amy laughed, "Well you are," she paused, holding the girl's hand, "An alien that's growing up too fast for me to get my head around."  
"You sound like my dad," Zara grabbed the bottle herself, deliberately avoiding eye contact as she painted Amy's nails to match her own, "Don't worry so much. I've got probably about four hundred years or so in me yet."  
"I am gonna be _so _old by then," Amy smirked.

They carried on in silence for a little while after that. Zara half wondered if she should tell Amy about the strange dreams she had been having, about fire and voices. She knew they were probably distant memories locked away from when she was little, but it wasn't something she wished to bring up with her father. Perhaps another time, it was her birthday after all, she was supposed to enjoy being spoiled. There was a knock on the frame of her door, and both of them turned to see who it was. Both of their faces lit up, but only Zara sprang to her feet and rocketed into the waiting arms of River Song, who laughed at her warm welcome.

"I'm not late then?"  
"By your standards you're about eight months early," responded Amy, standing up, and receiving her own hug from River, "Hello Darling Daughter,"  
"Hello Mother Dearest."

Zara rolled her eyes, letting them have their moment. It was the same cheese every time, but she rather liked the sentiment, having never known her own mother it was nice to see a semi-functioning relationship between female parent and offspring. Whilst those two caught up she went over to her dressing table, glancing at them in her mirror and smiling slightly as she sorted through masses of earrings. She was looking forward to her party, as it were. She hadn't wanted any of the fancy disco type things the other students in her year had because it just wasn't her. It was her closest friends coming over to eat, watch films, and do some competitive gaming. Granted, there was still ten of them, but as ever she had wanted her 'family' to be there too, even if it was just some company for her poor father, stuck supervising a bunch of teenagers. Her eyes focused on a little box on the right, neatly wrapped and waiting. It was from Jamie, who had given it to her early because he had a tendency to be forgetful. She wondered if she should open it, and shrugged. Why not? He was downstairs, she could always say thank you when she was finished getting ready.

"What've you got there?" queried Amy.

Zara jumped, she hadn't realised they had finished catching up. She turned to face them with the gift in her hand and smiled as she looked at it, "From Jamie. He knew he'd probably leave it at home until Christmas if he didn't give it to me when he got it."

River and Amy exchanged a significant glance which Zara completely missed as she unwrapped a dark red jewellery case, and beamed at the charm bracelet sitting there with a little fox hung on to it. She had spotted it in town a while ago when they were window shopping, a favourite hobby of young people with no way of earning money. Except paper rounds. She wondered just how many he had done to afford it.

Jamie was sitting outside in the garden, dangling his gangly legs off the side of the patio and watching the few birds that were hopping about. He had definitely taken after his father, skinny as a rake with limbs that looked like they had been deliberately stretched. He was quite easily the tallest person in his year at school now, which made quite a difference. He was less shy and picked on now, and people actually wanted him on their sports teams. He took a slurp of the pink lemonade he was holding, enjoying the breeze in his copper red hair. He frowned as the birds, suddenly startled, flew away. It was then that he heard a distant and familiar whir, and he stood up with a start, spilling some of his drink over his hand. As he shook it to get the worst off, a figure wiggled through the gap in the hedge at the back. He stood up and straightened his bowtie, brushing dirt off his suit as he spotted Jamie. He gave a friendly wave.

"Most people use the door," Jamie commented drily.  
"Jamie Pond!" he laughed, "Oh I do love that."  
"It's Williams, actually…" corrected the boy.  
The Doctor completely ignored him, "You got tall! How old are you now?"  
"Fourteen, just."  
"Ah, that explains the limbs. How are we then?"  
"We're, alright. It's Zara's birthday today,"  
"Oh, fabulous. The whole gang will be here then?"  
"Uhm yes. Which I imagine is why you are too. You really should call your wife more."  
"Why? She always calls me."  
"OK, so about you being here. Why?"  
"I was hoping you could help me."


End file.
